Culture of Sport
by Telaka
Summary: Trip teaches T’Pol the beautiful British game of penalty scoring in football, and so a craze for playing sports instead of training in the gym amongst the senior crew is born.
1. Football

_**Culture of Sport**_

**_AN_**: No romance here, no pairings, no hint of a pairing, no twisted romance at the end, just two friends spicing up a fitness session; basically just some innocent writing fun.

Also I may do a series of these with different sports, but I'm still contemplating that idea. May depend on how the response is, or just if it's fun to keep doing these.

…………………………………

She looked down at the small white sphere blankly, clearly either not impressed or not interested. As she judged it with a sceptic eye Trip watched her eagerly.

"C'mon Sub Commander. It'll give us both a break from the weights. Just a quarter of an hour, that's all ah'm askin' of ya."

As she sat on the bench with no hint of moving Trip rolled the 'football' back and forth between the sides of his feet. He was sizing up the back wall of the gym as he did so, the empty wall that allowed enough room to execute combat practice. He was sizing it up as a 'goal'. T'Pol held true to her scepticism.

"And where did you learn this… practice?"

The sphere remained under Trip's right foot now, waiting.

"It's not a practice, it's a sport. Malcolm showed me once. The game's called football, an' when the score o' goals is tied at the end of a game sometimes they play sudden death with penalties, which is what ah'm trying to get you to play with me now."

T'Pol nodded slowly, carefully calculating the explanation and rules. "And how do you, 'score a goal'?"

Trip was only speaking second hand, and after only one game with Malcolm, so he stood for a few seconds in careful thought, calculating himself how best to carry on explaining. He came to a simple conclusion.

"If ah showed ya it be it a lot easier than yakkin' about it."

A sly eyebrow crept slowly up T'Pol's forehead. "Who was, 'yakking'?"

Trip allowed a thin smile to that one.

"Here, get up an' stand over there." He pointed to the empty back wall of the gym and T'Pol kept her slim eyebrow raised.

"Was that an order?"

Trip paused as he picked up the football. "No, no just a request. So if y' will."

When she didn't more he began to adopt a pleading look in his young blue eyes again as she showed no signs of co-operation.

"C'mon T'Pol, if the British can make a phenomena out of it then we gotta make some us of it as well."

T'Pol looked as doubtful as her kind could. "I do not see what purpose this could serve us, or what logical reason there is for playing this sport."

Trip allowed half a smug smile to run across his lips. "An' here was me thinkin' you were maybe a lil' different from all the other Vulcans, more open minded, more… adventurous."

He won over the response he was pushing for. T'Pol sat up a little straighter, her muscles stiffening slightly and the towel from around her glistening shoulders crumpling to the cool laminate floor as she seemed suddenly to take an interest at his proposal.

Trip kicked the ball lightly so as it rolled onto the training floor then turned back to face T'Pol. "So what d' y' say Sub Commander?"

She searched for a reason to justify her sudden want to play.

"It is always useful, I suppose, to learn about and experience the cultural practices of other species, even ones of Humans."

Trip shone a smile of triumph. "Well whatever floats yer boat."

She frowned at him.

"Never mind. Go stand at the back wall."

Finally she lifted her lithe body off the bench and took a few long cat-like strides to do as Trip commanded of her. She fought off somewhat of a strong urge to say 'Yes Sir' as an attempt at dry humour.

As she positioned herself along the back wall Trip brought himself to stand facing her, only fifteen feet away with the white ball trapped under his right foot yet again. His lecture on how to play the sport of football continued thereafter.

"From here it's simple enough. Ah kick the ball an' you stop it from hittin' the back wall. Got it?"

She quipped a brow, almost feeling patronised. There was little to 'get' she thought, as she assumed it be to a simple enough game of hand-eye-foot co-ordination.

Unfortunately she did not count on Trip's use of power and speed as well.

He took a couple of well-planned steps back, arching to his left slightly, his back dropping height a little as if he were on the prowl. His eyes went from T'Pol, who stood still but ready, to the stationary football that begged him to kick it with every inch of strength he possessed in his right foot. An eerie stillness dropped over the room.

"Y' Ready?"

She did not understand the supposed build up of tension but she did nod in silence. He grinned.

He took off from the spot faster than she could compromise and as she blinked in surprise Trip logged his foot onto the leather surface of the football and sent it thundering into the left hand side of the wall, inches from T'Pol's head.

"Goal _one_ to the Engineer, _nothin'_ t' the Science Officer." He almost radiated with victory as the walls settled from shaking with the strength of his landed goal.

"C'mon T'Pol, ah thought y'd put up more of a fight than that!"

The ball rolled back to Trip and he positioned it once again fifteen feet from T'Pol and the back wall. She did not look impressed but nor did she voice a complaint or a comeback.

Trip dropped a few centimetres in height again, lining and position himself, but arching to the right this time. T'Pol crouched with him, flexing her fingers and never moving her stern gaze from the ball.

He took off, he plunged his foot forward again and it rattled once again into the back wall, to the right of T'Pol's head this time.

She quickly straightened up and stood patiently as the room echoed with the Southern twanged chants of "Two nil up!"

"Alright Sub Commander, we'll make it to five an' then switch."

She nodded silently in agreement.

Trip aligned himself again. Nothing could keep the small hint of a smile from off his face as he eyed up T'Pol and his goal carefully. He assured himself of a win on this next penalty. He made one small mistake though, noticed only by T'Pol's keen eye. He didn't arch enough to one side this time.

He was almost straight in front of T'Pol and the ball, his foot itching to sink into the surface of the leather again and his throat impatient to start up the victory chant of "Three nil win".

T'Pol crouched. She let her fingers tense and relax in quick succession, the fingertips and palms bracing themselves for what would be another overpowered shot.

Trip took off. She reached forward slightly and as the ball soared towards hitting her full on in the face she allowed her lightening reflexes to take over and her small hands wrapped tightly around the ball in success just before it would have smashed her nose in.

"Would that mean the score is now two to one?"

For all his need to keep his pride in tack Trip could not regain his voice quick enough to reply with some sly snide or tone of sarcasm. He had hardly even caught the action with his eyes and had even winced because he thought the football was sure to crunch into her. But instead she stood with it held neatly between her palms, her own eyes almost screaming to gloat.

She tossed the ball back and he barely caught his composure in time to catch it. He was no longer in the mode just to play; instinct had kicked in and urged him to win.

"Alright, ah get this one in ah win."

She nodded. "I know."

He almost glowered. The ball was placed down again at fifteen feet away. His actions were reflected tens of times in the mirrors that laced the walls of the gym; his utter need to win also reflecting in tens of pairs of narrow blue eyes.

T'Pol remained poised and calm as she had the ability to remind herself that it was only a game and nothing precious but perhaps male pride and either keeping it or destroying it was staked on this.

This time Trip dipped generously to the left as he kept his height slightly lowered at about the same level he did on every turn. All amounts of focus went solely on the wall and the ball; T'Pol was no longer in his line of sight.

He eyed the left corner. There was a slim chance of it hitting there, but a bigger chance of depriving T'Pol from catching the shot.

She stood in utter silence waiting for him to launch himself. Finally as he finished his judgment he did.

The ball flew at a wicked speed and slammed hard into the top left corner. T'Pol hadn't the time to reach up for it before she calculated where it was heading.

"An' the Engineer wins! A great day of triumph for technology over science an' a true triumph for humans everywhere, don't y' agree Sub Commander?"

Naturally she did not, nor did she see how this game represented the stance of science and technology, and Humans and Vulcans.

"I believe it is my turn to place in goals now?"

He stepped aside from his penalty position and jogged to the corner to collect the ball for her. A grin forever painted his pale lips.

"Here ya are."

He tossed her the ball and she caught it deftly, placing it down on the same spot Trip had on each turn. In the five minutes or so it had taken Trip to execute his four shots T'Pol had learnt a lot.

She had rarely shown off her strength before in the year and a half she had served Enterprise. There had been rare few occasions where she had had to, and if she remembered right Trip had not seen her yet use her body in combat and her strength against others.

He moved into goals and she began to creep backwards, moving to the left. She knew that Trip worked with his right hand, as Humans had that curious trait of usually only being able to work with one hand well. She therefore aimed for the left.

He scuffed his feet back and forth across the floor, never quite standing still as T'Pol had. He still wore his smile and seemed to be taunting with his eyes, although she was unfazed by it if he was.

She took a few more steps back than he had and spent a little longer surveying the ball and Trip's stance. Unlike he she kept him in her line of sight always.

There was no warning before she took off on her heal and almost no time to watch her foot sock into the ball, sending it flying deftly to the wall and landing it only inches from Trip's hip. His face flushed itself of colour.

T'Pol trapped the ball firmly under her foot as it came rolling back to her.

"I believe that would place me one up then?"

…………………………………

_-One Hour Later-_

The gym was haunted by the thundering shots of an overpowered football running into the back wall at reckless speeds over and over again. The walls shook in terror and the room was laced with the air of heavy competition. There was also an edgy audience present.

None of the ten or so who had gathered to watch unwittingly was sure whether to laugh at the absurdity of the sight or to keep themselves in silent apprehension. For now they opted for the latter.

Malcolm was amongst the group, and had been the second after Hoshi to join in the spectatorship. He placed full blame on himself for this. He was never even too keen on football, even just taking penalties; it had just been a way to pass the time in the gym one day with Trip, and now he wished he'd never even spoke to him about the game.

T'Pol was back in goals. They had played countless times now, and it had always been that Trip would win one and then T'Pol one.

The current status was that the shots were tied, Trip had scored two and T'Pol had saved two. T'Pol was also one game up, twenty-four to twenty-three. Every game for the past forty-five minutes was meant to be their last, but they seemed relentlessly just to carry on, fighting off aching muscles and fatigue to do so.

A chilling silence had settled. Not a spectator dared to speak, move or breathe hard. They sat scattered across gym equipment and benches, and Malcolm stood with his arms crossed as if bracing himself for the worst. They were like this, almost in a state of stone cold fear, only because of the fierceness in each competitor's eyes.

Trip knew that if he missed this shot he would have to call it a day and proclaim T'Pol the winner. Not a fibre in him wanted to do that, not even to be a gracious loser.

He stood a fair distance from the ball, further back than usual. He also stood almost directly in front of it. He wanted a high shot, one that would soar generously over T'Pol's head, just missing the ceiling.

Malcolm had told them that there was a limit to the size of the goal but neither heeded him on that rule and decided the whole back wall was of a fair enough size for them. It was not a particularly long wall anyway, although reasonably high.

Through the pressure of this shot Trip managed to tease a smile into his face. T'Pol had finally gathered that he was trying to taunt her when doing this, but he had not be successful yet in doing so. For him though it gave him some kind of confidence.

"Y' ready?"

He had asked her this countless times now and every time he did T'Pol only nodded her head. She braced herself as well.

Trip shuffled his feet a few times, gathering the feel of the turf beneath him. He calmed his heart rate and honed his focus in on the ball. Then he prayed.

He left his marker in a flash of his heals and threw his leg back fast, pushing every inch of power he had into the toes of his foot to offer his hardest, fastest shot yet. It flew high and almost immediately he began to congratulate himself on the victory.

T'Pol jumped for it, already anticipating that the ball was headed for above her. Her hands shot up high but the ball never actually reached where everyone thought it was destined to go. Instead it landed in her face.

Both ball and Vulcan landed hard, T'Pol keeping on her feet but burying her face in her hands in a burst of amazing pain.

At the very least Trip's white face and horror stricken eyes showed the signs of a wholly mortified man. The ball rolled innocently past his feet, bouncing lightly against a treadmill behind him.

The fact that no one moved emphasised the heat in T'Pol's eyes when she finally lifted her head from her hands again. A sliver of dark green blood spilled from her nose and there was no doubt that within the hour a generously dark bruise would be circling her left watery eye. However she showed no signs of pain, only the will to carry on.

"I believe that would mean we are tied now."

Trip took a few tentative steps towards her his eyes desperate with guilt. "That didn't count! Ah'm sorry, ah really am. An' ah'd say you've won now."

She shook her head. "No, I will take one more shot. If I score, I win. If not then the victory is yours."

It was a challenge Trip itched to take up but he winced and felt searing remorse as he surveyed the damage on T'Pol's face.

"Shouldn't y' go see Phlox?"

"I am fine, and I will as soon as I take this shot."

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. Beside him, sitting on an exercise bike Hoshi could not have felt more nervous and jittery. The feeling rippled throughout the group.

Seeing no other choice but to accept the final challenge Trip eventually nodded and took up position in goals. An Ensign leant up against the handles of the treadmill passed T'Pol the football again. She settled it fifteen feet from Trip.

Throughout the game T'Pol had always gone to the left, and for the most part scored that way. Now she found it time to take on a different calculated approach. This time she moved to the right.

Adrenalin kept Trip focused as he watched every move T'Pol made closely.

She moved back, stopped and then took another few steps back. She leant forward slightly then straightened up a fraction and allowed her mind to race with calculations of the perfect shot. Then, when all had been thought out and planned she forgot it and ran forward to take a reckless shot.

Her shot ran straight and true and flew with speed, precision and power far surpassed anything seen in the game so far.

It landed in the one place every man dreaded.

All eyes turned away as Trip doubled into himself and fell to the floor in utter, wordless pain and defeat. T'Pol trapped the ball under her foot once again as it rolled back to her fifteen feet away from the crippled played.

"We will call it an fair tie Commander."

Trip looked up at T'Pol weakly and nodded before burying his face back in the ground again. T'Pol didn't understand his reaction, her face was in just as much white hot pain as she imagined he was, but she would not fall to the floor because of it.

Eventually she walked over to and stood above Trip and dropped her hand down for him to take as he looked up at her again meekly. Still keeping one hand to the offended area he accepted her offer of help and she pulled him up with ease.

It was then that the gym doors opened and Captain made his appearance.

"Sub Commander, Trip, you two were due for duty fifteen minutes ago, what the _hell_ have you been doing?"

T'Pol's battered face and Trip's ashen expression did not escape Archer's notice as he surveyed the two, both thoroughly run down of energy and ready to call it a day, even when the first shift hadn't even started. After a moment of silence, feeling he wasn't up for the answers to the questions he so desperately wanted to ask he sighed.

"Both of you report to sickbay now."

They nodded thankfully and left in haste behind them the silent audience and a bemused Captain in a rather shaken gym.

For the most part they were silent themselves as they carefully walked down to sickbay, Trip not ashamed to accept T'Pol's shoulder as he struggled to walk to their destination. There was one thing he said though before they reported their injured selves to the Doctor.

"Ah come off at seven t'night. Y' free t' play then?"

She opened the doors to the medical haven, paused in serious consideration and then as Phlox approached them with a wide smile nodded in quick, silent agreement.

"Yes sir."


	2. Basketball

**_AN: _**Due to some amount of request, and some interesting muses, I decided to carry on with this. I still don't know how far I'll go though, but it should be fun.

Now, a small warning here. As this goes on I believe the characters will become more and more OOC. So beware, and don't chase me up for it, or I'll moon you.

Also I'm not looking to be wholly technical with this story (I deleted one stupid and pointless review chiding me over how T'Pol would not say 'Yes Sir' to Trip as she is his Commanding Officer… it was a joke much) or even hilariously funny. This is just really something I work on when I'm bored at home or filled with free periods at school. But I still deem it worth enough to go up with the best of my stories on ff.net, and to be read and reviewed. So carry on dear reader, I'm done here for now.

…………………………………

Slowly and quietly the clocks around the ship trickled towards half past seven. Most of the crew were either seeing the end of their last shift for the day or the beginning of a long and dreadful nightshift.

The gym on C Deck was all but empty save from one lone soul who paced the grey tiled floors decked out in a white basketball top that was far too big for him in every measurement, had a bold red 'Trip' scrolled on the back and had a set of matching white and red shorts that sported to the world the third ranking Commanding Officer's scrawny but somewhat muscular legs.

He was expecting to be alone for the night, and was still nursing himself tenderly from the 'incident' with the football and the Sub Commander two nights ago. It was his pride more than anything that stayed scorned though.

He had grown bored of scoring penalties now anyway (although many suspected that because T'Pol would always win that one extra game he had more grown resentful of it) and pondered instead over the hundreds more sports he could use to save himself from the treadmills and weights for another night. It was his top that in the end inspired him.

The double doors to the cool grey and silver gym opened with a gentle hiss and Malcolm sauntered in to join him in this quiet evening, just as fresh from his own last shift and just as reluctant to call it a day on the treadmills or exercise bikes as Trip was.

"Commander."

He nodded with a wayward smile as he spotted the Engineer and scanned quickly about to see if perhaps a rogue football was not lying around.

"You and the Sub Commander playing penalties again tonight?"

A silent scowl crossed Trip's brilliant blue eyes, and a tease scorched Malcolm's duller ones.

"No, ah'm callin' it quits with that now. There's a million an' one sports we could be playin', so ah aint shootin' penilities the rest of ma life with her."

Malcolm seemed to be ready to hit the weights, rather reluctantly. His tease never left his half smile.

"Besides," Trip looked down briefly at his top, contemplating it, "doesn't look like T'Pol's gonna make an appearance t'night, so ah was just thinkin' maybe ah'd shoot some hoops."

Malcolm's interests were instantly quirked as Trip had hoped with adding that last casually spoken tail remark. He smiled in a slightly devious manner.

"Up for a few rounds? A lil' one on one?"

The Lieutenant was close to answering with what Trip suspected would be an eager 'yes' when the doors opened for a second time, and gave T'Pol and the Captain entrance to the gym.

Trip began to sport a wider smile now almost instantly after watching his two commanding officers enter, wondering if perhaps they weren't for joining in.

"Or maybe a lil' two on two. Cap'in, y' up for a lil' basketball, you an y'r First Officer against me an' the Englishman here?"

T'Pol's brow, without anyone expecting it not to, rose to a high and curious height, just as Malcolm's, who stood in the background, dropped in a sharp angle.

"Basketball?"

Trip walked over to the cupboard he had proclaimed the best kept secrete on the Enterprise, as he hadn't known it had existed until it had provided he and T'Pol with an endless supply of footballs, seeing as most at the end of a game of penalties suffered the fate of being burst beyond repair, which usually called the game. Low and behold as well it had a healthy supply of basketballs.

"Yeah, basketball."

As he turned back to the three with a boldly shaded orange ball spinning rather shakily on one index finger he saw a quietly bemused Sub Commander, an eager Lieutenant and a sceptic but slightly grinning Captain all curious at his suggestion.

"Y'all up for it then?"

There were no protests, but T'Pol did look to her only outranking officer for a little guidance, perhaps even a small enlightenment on what Trip was urging a game of if she was lucky. Archer gave her a hearty few pats on the back before he signalled for Trip to pass him the ball.

"It's simple enough to pick up on, and if those two," he jerked his free thumb after catching the ball towards the two friends who had already began a banter of tactics, each contradicting the other on every suggestion, "are our only competition then we should be fine."

Her raised brow dropped to a frown, but still only a curious one, as her expression often was towards the Captain, or more often still to Trip.

"May I at least receive a briefing on the basic rules?"

All three men dove forward with their voices to hastily throw in their own subtly various different takes of the rules of the game; of dribbling, marking and generally making a point of expressing the main goal to shoot into the hoop (one of which was conjured with the replicator) and so score.

Of the little T'Pol could distinguish from each man she gathered she was to pass, bounce and throw the ball down and into the hoop. There was little difficulty she could imagine. She did stay wary though, after underestimating Trip the last time with a sport.

"We good t' go then?"

Trip looked expectantly at T'Pol who eventually nodded and the three men broke away from what had been a fairly close circle of commanding officers, all throwing their hands together and seemingly bracing themselves for something of heavy psychical endurance. T'Pol only took a few graceful steps back from Malcolm and Trip to Archer's side, who still had the ball.

"Wait," the three turned to Malcolm who had suddenly piped up, "who gets to start off?"

Archer smiled in such a way that Trip and Malcolm couldn't help but begin to shake their heads in protest.

"Why you two?!"

Archer pointed to T'Pol. "A heads up for the first time player would be fair, don't you think? That and I'm the Captain and I've decided so."

Trip scowled. "Ah c'n see this is gonna be a fair game. Least when you're playin' with her," again T'Pol was pointed at, "she don't abuse her power."

"No, not her _commanding_ power."

Again a spatter of teasing shot across Malcolm's dull blue eyes.

"Hey! Who's side y' on?"

Archer bounced the ball a couple of times between his spread feet. "We playing or not?"

The two split up their vicious eye contact, Trip with another scorn and Malcolm with a triumphant smirk.

"C'n y' even play? Ah always figured y' weren't the sporty kind."

Malcolm never let go of his smile. "You just wait."

Archer took the centre of the floor and signalled for T'Pol with a few hasty hand movement, as the other two continued to nip at each other, to move behind him.

"Are we playing?"

Finally the two lower ranking officers focused on the two commanding ones. Trip smiled with high competitiveness already flaring up in his bright eyes and Malcolm rubbed his hands together briefly. Both nodded.

"Alright."

There was a pause of a few seconds and Archer played tension on the silence as he shifted his grinning gaze from one opponent to the next. T'Pol focused and braced herself for any sudden movement to respond to at any time.

Suddenly there was a booming echo throughout the gym as the ball was slammed to the ground by Archer and carried with him as he quickly began to run to the hoop. Trip took off and Malcolm rounded from behind to quickly take up marking of T'Pol.

Both opponents were too slow off the mark however and as Trip shot toward him with his hands out to take the ball from him, Archer spun on his heal and threw it to T'Pol who caught it with neat precision and speed.

There was hardly a fault in her playing as she adjusted to the game quickly and bounced the ball against the hard tiled floor as fast and furiously as Archer had.

Malcolm was at her back, trying his best to come around her but she kept her front and the ball shielded well as she ran towards to the goal, Archer running parallel with her.

There was no need for another pass though as she saw her chance at only five feet away to take a small leap and aim the ball with accurate calculations and judgment of height against distance against speed to assure that it rounded neatly into the hoop.

Malcolm and Trip stopped dead in their tracks, no amount of resent staying hidden in their eyes as they watched Archer raise his hand for T'Pol to make high five with. She stared at his palm blankly.

Trip picked up the ball as it rolled over to his feet.

"Ah thought y' said y' could play!"

Malcolm's eyes widened and he took a step back, clearly offended.

"Excuses me? I can play, you were the one who couldn't duck in quick enough to take the ball off him in the first place!"

"You were the one chasin' the player who'd never even heard of the game before _and_ who's half your height!"

"Well you try marking her, she's fast!"

T'Pol and Archer both faced their bickering opponents in unison.

"Perhaps you both cannot play as well as you had thought of yourselves."

They rounded on T'Pol so fiercely with their gazes that Archer almost saw a need to step in front of her and save her from flying basketballs.

"We're just warmin' up."

She raised a brow but no more was said.

Trip took the middle of the floor this time, facing Archer with a shadow across his eyes, and a quick flicker of his gaze to Malcolm every few half seconds, checking his position beside T'Pol. She was now in front, marking him, but it was true he outstripped her in height far enough for Trip to possibly and plausibly a make a high enough throw that theoretically she wouldn't be able to catch but Malcolm could with ease. Trip nodded to himself to confirm the tact. He also left Malcolm hanging on a guess as to what he was planning.

The two tight friends in the middle of the floor fixed tight and harsh glares on each other. As men they found it almost too easy to forget their years of friendship in the heat of the moment, and the game became almost a war in their gazes alone. Malcolm too was ready to defend his pride.

T'Pol was Vulcan enough to realise this was only a game.

Trip took off from his marker again faster than could be seen by Archer at first. He was light and amazing on his feet, a quick dodger who dove left and right at dangerously sharp angles and a faster still sprinter when he had the clear runway for it.

He moved so well with the ball that it took a few long and powerful strides from Archer to catch up with him again, and when he did he could not deny he would have trouble regaining the ball.

He had his pride to look after though as well.

There was nothing more Archer wanted to do than to stop that ball rolling into that hoop, and his competitive side to his so often fair nature had been underestimated by the Southerner.

Trip hadn't needed to pass the ball to his teammate, as much as it disgruntled Malcolm. He enjoyed such a strong upper hand that he felt a strong urge to finish with a fancy, flamboyant and very Michael Jordan slam-dunk. In short had grown cocky.

Archer did not take kindly to this cockiness.

Trip took another few bounding leaps towards the hoop, before he allowed his trainers to leave the ground, where he then spun slightly, aiming for the goal with his back to it.

Malcolm had stopped running and T'Pol stopped short of running into the back of him.

Archer kept running, even though in essence the point had already been won. He kept running until he collided with Trip's torso.

It was an accident above all, although it would have been hard to convince any unfortunate sole who had just happened then to walk into the gym at that moment of that. Malcolm and T'Pol themselves found it hard to see an accident in the midst of the collision. But in his haste to stop the goal Archer had picked up too much speed to kill it quite so suddenly again.

Trip fell to the floor with his Captain. The ball fell victoriously through the hoop, then onto Trip's head. He began to ask himself why he bothered.

Archer was back on his feet before any hands could be offered to assist him up. Trip wasn't so fast, as much as he desired to be.

"Y' know what," he did eventually straighten up, and although he so wished to curl back into himself Trip instead only faced his Captain with stern eyes, that matched Archer's own hard hazel gaze, "lets say we make it interestin'."

Obviously Archer was listening, as he did not say anything. .

"Ever heard o' Killer basketball?"

Archer straightened up slightly. "No…"

Trip grinned. "Aw it's simple enough. There's really only one basic cliqued rule. That there aren't really any rules at all. It means absolutely spectacular penalties like that one y' just committed, are allowed. Just shoot and score, whatever way y' can."

This obviously did not impress T'Pol, although obvious was hardly the word for it. If it weren't for that they did not have a pen on them, one of the men would have been bound to write 'I do not approve' on her high olive forehead.

"What is the point of playing a sport with no rules? It becomes nothing then, simply running around with a ball and a hoop, does it not?"

Trip never ceased to grin. "But it's _Killer_ basketball, so y' get t' beat the living crap out of each other but in good nature. Ah figure it be better than combat practice with Malcolm and his lot any day, an' it'll make this a lil' more _interestin'_."

On the last few words his devilish blue eyes settled back on Archer who was in silent agreement. Both men had some amount of competitive pride to keep in tact that was even beyond Malcolm.

Malcolm went to open his mouth in protest but Trip was already ready with a snide. "Y' aint done anythin' so far in this game so y' got absolutely _no_ right t' complain to your superior officer."

He might have scowled but Malcolm had no great sharp comeback and so stayed silent and slightly humiliated at T'Pol's side.

"Will we set the scores back to nil?"

It was the first vocal confirmation from Archer that acknowledged for the others on his agreement with the sudden change of plan.

"Naw, one one's a nice startin' basis. Here," he tossed the ball to Malcolm, "we get first shoot off thought."

Archer might have complained if it weren't for the spectacular amount of unfairness in advantage he and T'Pol had enjoyed at the start of this game.

"Alright."

On his nod they took up their positions again.

It was T'Pol and Malcolm now, taking spotlight together, with Trip making no hesitation in taking the occasional grab for Archer's top as he marked him tightly, fiercely even.

It was his chance to redeem himself, and although Malcolm had never been too fussed about his own pride and status, he was fussed when it had been pinned on him that he was not a sports man. Okay, this was true, but just because he could not name a basketball player beyond Michael Jordan he saw not why this would mean to others he could not play.

He tossed the ball lightly between his two hands, trying his best to ignore the concentrating and calculating Vulcan in front of him. This was hard, but he was far more concerned about his redemption that her at this very moment. So he focused.

He watched the distance between he and the hoop. It was not far, he could do it, especially since now it was not illegal…

He jerked forward and as T'Pol moved to respond he instantly dove to the opposite side she leant to, and in another instance later he launched the ball from his hands. It flew freely through the air, gliding with great easy and velocity towards the hoop. It seemed to sail for an eternity, enjoying its liberty from competitive hands as it went freelance. This was not for long though.

Without even touching the rims of the hoop the ball landed though the goal and bounced noisily off the tile floor.

It was not his opposition that the smug look went to thereafter. Trip had absolutely nothing to say, and nothing that could hide his absolute shock.

"Shall we carry on then?"

…………………………………

Team Alpha versus Team F.B.I. That was what this game had been reduced to.

Although Archer had gotten to choose his two-player team name, finding the 'Alpha' amusing and fitting even if T'Pol did not, Trip and Malcolm had been burdened with their name.

'Florida and British Idiots'. The crowd had liked it when Archer had chimed in with it as they had argued over titles, and so terribly for them it had stuck.

And yes there was now a crowd, just as every game of penalties between Trip and T'Pol had had one. Their crowd included an awe struck Hoshi and Travis, awe stuck in the most horrified sense.

The game had taken the title 'Killer' and changed it rapidly to 'Slaughter'. There was no mercy in the field anymore; mercy was a thing of taboo. The floor was laden with skid marks, and sweat, and most prominently light smatterings of blood, although there was little green blood to show in amongst the pallets of red.

The score had become a gritty twenty-four points each, T'Pol fresh from scoring the two for her team that put them on an even par again. If there wasn't just a hint of gloating in her eyes then Malcolm and Trip had been reduced, along with the petty competitiveness of this game, to seeing things together.

As they relocated their positions on the field, Trip and Archer back in centre, Trip with the ball, and T'Pol back to marking Malcolm at the side, they all knew that soon the game would have to be called. The three men were on their last weary and stubborn legs.

"Alright," rather breathlessly Archer straightened himself up and addressed the three senior officers around him, ignoring the smirking crowd, "how does Sudden Death sound?"

To T'Pol it sounded horrific. "Sir, is that not a little extreme?"

The three turned to her, almost dumbfounded by her naivety to sports.

"It just means whoever scores the next goal wins."

She looked blankly at Malcolm. "Then what was the point of the last half hour of playing?"

In turn he looked at her blankly. "I… don't know."

"T'Pol, just forget it. Sudden Death or not?"

Finally, after glances were exchanged in either which direction a silent yes passed through the group.

"Hoshi."

From inspecting her nails during the lull of the game Hoshi raised her deep brown eyes up quickly, looking like a deer caught in an eighteen-wheeler's headlights.

"…Yes…?"

It was undeniable that she wanted nothing to do with this bloodbath but to watch it with Travis. On the same token however she was reluctant to disobey her Captain's call, as he waved her over onto the floor.

"We just need someone to toss the ball up, to make it fair."

It was ironic that after throwing Trip into a wall, being thrown into a wall by Trip, finding Malcolm's feet tripping up his team mate and watching his team mate elbow Trip somewhat viciously, but by 'accident', that Archer would use the word 'fair' in terms of this game. Hoshi was not the one who would be arguing with him on the usage of the word here though.

"Here."

As she stood slowly, wondering why she was obeying this request, he tossed her the ball. It flew into her palms then out of her palms, and then bounced away from her, before she bent over ungainly to try and catch it, of which it continued to run away from her as she kicked it with every step forward she took. Archer sighed, but kept his patience

"Travis."

The other young Ensign of the bridge stood without question and carefully took the ball off of Hoshi as she stood up somewhat meekly triumphant with it. Without protest but with much shame she sat back down again with Crewman Kelly, who could only offer her a pat on the forearm as conciliation from the sniggers in the crowd of ten or so.

Travis took the stance of a referee between the two friends and deadly rivals now, Trip and Archer, as he built tension on the lead up to the sudden death goal.

He had found this show ridiculously amusing, and had so wanted to join in, but dared not to interrupt when he watched T'Pol take out both the opposing men with two sharp ducks, where her elbows had landed in their stomachs in quick succession of one after the other.

Archer glared at Trip. Trip returned the look with narrow lids. Only because they were men was this mad hot competitiveness made excusable.

There was only so long Travis could hold the ball, and only so long he could bear the glares from Malcolm and T'Pol, so he finally threw the ball high and true and then in turn threw himself back as both men leapt to amazing heights to seize their chance at a first grab. Trip got it.

He took off in a shot. He knew it would cost him almost his life if he even considered hesitating before the Captain. His feet as they hammered into the floor made the lino shudder terribly, and the crowd, if they could, lifted their feet from the ground in fear of sudden crevices opening up and swallowing them whole.

Malcolm had abandoned T'Pol, or T'Pol had lost her mark on Malcolm, it depended on what team you were supporting. He darted towards the basket and stood there as Trip's last resort if Archer just happened to climb on his back… again.

Trip had no intentions of heeding his teammate however; this as far as he was concerned, was _their_ game now, his and Archer's.

Archer was at his heal, painfully at his heal even. Every so often the sole of his foot would come close enough so as when it came down again it would tear some of the Engineer's skin off. Only small top layers of it, but enough so that it counted as one of the reasons why this game had become Slaughter, and no longer as mild as Killer.

It could not detour the Southerner though from his straight and narrow path towards the goal. He would not be stopped by the Captain, he could not be stopped by Archer, he would not—

He had forgotten about T'Pol.

She came from nowhere, as determined as her team mate, who unlike Trip she was still working with, to win this game. It seemed Vulcans had something of a competitive streak that they had rather stupidly unleashed.

From his side she came in, and braced her arm as a ramming post to knock him down in mid-stride, which she did with unquestionable success. He fell as easily as she retook possession of the ball in one graceful swoop, and she and Archer began to run parallel with each other again down the small court.

Malcolm had become a one-man team. To say he wasn't terrified beyond the point of having any remnants of colour left in his entire body was an understatement, and rather an insulting understatement at that. He could not be blamed either.

He was sorely tempted to let T'Pol take her shot and win the game for Team Alpha. In fact he was more than happy to allow this running bundle of muscle and strength far surpassed his own get her own way. Yet he would have to face the wrath of Trip if he did not at least try to block her shot.

In the end he had to go with avoiding the insanity of a Southerner without his pride, because he felt it would be far longer lasting than any bruise or gash the so often reasonable and even headed Sub Commander could give him.

He was a madman. And a madman he may be but hopefully he would be a praised and loved and respected madman for this for the rest of his life, or at least his time on Enterprise, which looked limited at best right now.

Malcolm left the back wall, even though T'Pol was only feet away from him at that position. He could see Trip was rising behind them again, and ready to get back in the game, if he was given the chance. Hopefully, but unlikely, that was what Malcolm was going to do.

T'Pol had shortened her stride, and Malcolm had learnt that this was what she did just before she would jump to take her shot. He had only a few seconds left to act on. He leapt forward, he began to run with his head down slightly, he began to charge, and just as T'Pol bent her knees slightly to jump he flew forward full throttle.

It was very unlikely that she knew exactly what had hit her for the first few seconds she lay on the floor. Whatever is had been though, a Shuttlepod or a Tactical Officer, she was not sure but this was what she had limited it to, she was out for the remained of the five or so seconds left of this Sudden Death, which had become uncomfortably literal.

The ball became a rogue and for a few blissful seconds it was free and in no one's sweaty palms. Until Trip fell over himself to claim it back again.

He pounced on it so hard that it almost rolled away from him again. But he managed to seize it tight and quickly got up with it, flying over T'Pol and ducking under Archer just to get five feet from the basket.

If he did not make this shot he would retire.

Malcolm hung back, feeling his work here had been done. So he kept himself mesmerised and in one safe place as the orange sphere stayed stuck to Trip's palms until he had cleared the Captain and lined himself up for a beautiful shot. This was their game now, it had to be.

Archer was all but done with Trip though. He may have dodged him with amazing grace, but Archer was at his back now in a second, his large and vicious clawed fingers ready to grab anything that would stop that ball from going in.

Trip leapt. Trip leapt high. He was going for a flying slam-dunk again, obviously not learning from the last time.

Archer jumped with him. As Trip became inches from closing the Sudden Death deal Archer wrapped his arms around his waist and began to pull him down again, intending that they landed on the floor together like before.

Instead the two kept moving forward, until the wall determined instead that they could go forward no more.

It wouldn't have been so bad for Archer either, if Trip hadn't landed on him hard after the wall had decided they had had enough for one day, perhaps all their days left on the Enterprise.

The ball rolled away from under them. Malcolm found he was now playing a one-man _game_. He picked it up. The field was clear. With a gentle throw the ball rolled neatly into the net, and a fair round of applause rose from the crowd in honour of Team F.B.I's victory. He lapped it up with utter greed, all for himself. He could be forgiven though. He had always failed P.E as a high school nerd before.

Hoshi moved to the comm. in the gym.

"Sato to sickbay."

"Yes, Phlox here."

She smiled shakily. "Ever heard of Killer Basketball?"


End file.
